A friend filmed this on her mobile last night, but the quality is not great. The lighting was warm and cosy, but a bit too darn to filmed. Below is the text to the second poem which I wrote in English: Olive Verses Every black cloud has a silver lining In my land The silver lining was an omen The worst is yet to come My land is fertile, in the Fertile Crescent Where all fruits grow Nothing dies in my land In my land Only the innocent Are borne to die. Sami, A madman and a poet Planted olives there Only moons ago We met in Alqush, A vigil of Araq and poetry Wound salting poetry, and remedies too. Sami, Wrote our vision in olive branches With fruit bearing verses. Silly us In my land Olives are not allowed to grow Only bloody ripe pomegranates Bursting to scatter their seeds Refugees Living Breathing Dying seeds. My land is fertile, in the Fertile Crescent Plant it with terrorism or olives. Everyone sows blood, Not enough madmen with olive branches.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Nov 2014 08:14:45 +0000
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